Frisk-cicle
by tiredrobin
Summary: You're shivering, you notice. Your sweater was never designed for much more than autumn winds, and it's worn and battered and sporting a few holes from your encounters with various monsters. The frosty air seeps through it and clings to the frayed material and leaves you with little warmth, but you know that there's nothing to be done and just try your best to ignore it.


You think that you might be getting a cold.

You feel weirdly heavy and way too frigid and pretty out of it, like your head is stuffed with cobwebs, and you're so lethargic that you wonder if you might fall asleep on your feet. You do your best to ignore it, though, to convince yourself that it's just because of the snow and ice, and so far it's working, for the most part.

Papyrus is in the middle of one of his long-winded rants about your capture and him joining the Royal Guard—he's loud and animated, hands moving in wide gestures to emphasis his point—when you suddenly interrupt with an unexpected sneeze. He pauses to give you a funny look, and you rub your palm against your nose and then slip both hands beneath your armpits to warm them, peering back up at him in an attempt to look like you're focused on what he's saying.

You're shivering, you notice. Your sweater was never designed for much more than autumn winds, and it's worn and battered and sporting a few holes from your encounters with various monsters. The frosty air seeps through it and clings to the frayed material and leaves you with little warmth, but you know that there's nothing to be done and just try your best to ignore it.

Papyrus still stares at you for a moment like he's thinking about something, but then he seems to dismiss whatever it is he's considering and starts talking again. He regains his pace surprisingly quickly, and the ball rolling in seconds and he's already getting worked up, and you have the feeling that he won't be done anytime soon.

Until you sneeze again, at least.

This time, when he stops, the look he gives you is even stranger than the last and you can't figure out what it means. Sans is eyeing you oddly too, now, and with a wave of apprehension you untuck a hand, splay open your fingers, and bounce your thumb against your chest twice. " _I'm fine_ ,"you're signing, even if you don't feel all that fine. Your body chooses then to sneeze a third time and both look entirely unconvinced.

"Human," Papyrus starts, and he seems uncertain for just a second before he presses on, "Is it common for you to sneeze so often? Are you alright?" His voice has an unfamiliar tone to it, one that matches his expression, but it isn't unkind, and you give him a reassuring nod. You're freezing and you're tired and you feel a little dead on your feet, but you're okay, you tell yourself, you're fine and there's no need to bother either of them with your problems.

But then you sneeze again, so hard that you stumble a bit, and Papyrus looks absolutely and positively alarmed. In a second he's crouching down next to you in the snow, one gloved hand resting on your arm, and his gaze meets your own. "Tiny human," he says again, "I do not think that excessive sneezing is a good sign, yes? Here, monsters who start to sneeze a lot are usually becoming sick. If that is the case, you must let me know! I, the great Papyrus, believe it is unfair to capture you if you are in a weakened state, as you would have no chance of beating me! Not that you would in the first place, mind you, but you would have even less of a chance at defeating me!"

Your smile is more genuine this time and shake your head insistently, but of course you sneeze again. As if it might hold them back, you wrap your arms tighter around yourself and scrunch up your nose in discontent; try as you might, now that they're bringing attention to your condition, ignoring it becomes nearly impossible and you're growing increasingly aware of just how tired you are.

"I think they're cold," Sans pipes up, and that something is in his voice too, though it's far more subtle.

When Papyrus peeks back at Sans and then looks to you again, his eyes are a little harder with what you're able to recognize as determination. That something else from before is still there, too, and its unfamiliarity coupled with that sudden hardness leaves you feeling a tiny flash of panic— _what did I do wrong?_ —and you start to pull away, already beginning to sign an apology for whatever misdeed you had committed. He suddenly lets go of you himself, though, and begins to pull off his strange scarf-cape.

You hold utterly still—other than the occasional sneeze—as he very gently and very carefully slips it over your head and adjusts it around your neck. It's absolutely huge on you and it spills over your shoulders and covers a large part of your upper arms, and it's such a welcome layer against the cold that, despite yourself, you close your eyes and nuzzle into it. Stiff, frigid fingers reach up to entangle themselves in the red fabric, and you feel a flush of gratitude.

"There! Is that better, tiny human?" You sneeze, nod, and smile gratefully at him, but he hums thoughtfully and looks you over, seemingly unsatisfied. "Hmph! You're still sneezing. Clearly it was not enough! Sans?" He turns to his brother expectantly and Sans is already shrugging off his jacket, but you don't really figure out what he's doing until he's draping it around your shoulders.

You remain motionless for a very long moment, trying to comprehend what's happening, trying to figure out why they're doing this. It's only when you have a sneezing fit and Papyrus makes a worried sound that you realize what it is—they're _concerned_.

They're concerned for you.

That's the look Papyrus is giving you, the look he had been giving you this entire time. It's the look Sans had given you too, you figure, and you're stunned. It was the very same look Toriel had given you when she healed you after your encounter with Flowey, and again when she found you, tired and injured, by the leafless tree. It was an expression you were so unaccustomed to that you couldn't recognize it on another's face. The revelation nearly strikes you dumb.

It also makes you want to cry, just a little, and you quickly wipe at your eyes before any tears can spill. Papyrus takes the motion as a different sign, though, and exclaims, "I think they're tired!"

Sans chuckles. "I think you're right, bro." He watches as you begin to slip your arms into the jacket sleeves, and they're far too long for you. "They look—"

" _Sans_ ," Papyrus breaks in sternly.

"... _Bone_ weary," He cracks, and goes on before Papyrus can do more than make a sound of disgust, "What'cha gonna do about it?"

Papyrus _hmm_ 's thoughtfully, looking you up and down and watching as your stiff fingers fumble with the zipper, and his eyes brighten. "Human!" He booms, making you jump a bit, and you fail to zip it up a third time. "How would you like to come rest at my brother's and my house for a bit? It wouldn't do at all to leave you out in the cold, now would it? What do you say?"

You're frozen for a reason entirely unrelated to the cold, and then you peek up at his cautiously. He looks so earnest and expectant, his smile bright and kind, and despite all your misgivings you nearly accept his offer on the spot. You hesitate, though, gaze darting between the two of them, fingers anxiously fiddling with the zipper.

Papyrus seems to take your hesitation as something else. "Oh, do not worry, little human! This is not a ploy to capture you, for I, the great Papyrus, am an honest skeleton! Please, accept my offer!" He doesn't even give you a second to respond. "We could call it a truce and I can put off capturing you until you feel better. How does that sound?"

After a long, contemplative silence—you sneeze again and you're reminded, once more, of how weak and tired you feel—you nod hesitantly, and Papyrus's grin and Sans approving thumbs up warm you up inside in a way the jacket and scarf doesn't. Papyrus is about to set off when Sans murmurs, "Wait," and approaches you, bending down slightly and gently pulling the zipper from your hands. He zips it up for you, grins, and winks (" _Snow_ problem, wouldn't want ya to catch a _femur_ ," he stage-whispers in response to your signed, " _Thank you_ ", and Papyrus makes an angry noise in the background even as he's fighting back a grin).

When Papyrus offers you a gloved hand, you accept it with a tiny smile and allow him to lead you toward his home.


End file.
